


Cura Te Ipsum

by nastally



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Character Study, Dark, Doctor/Master Angst fest, Dubious Consent, F/M, Friendship/Love, Heartbreak, M/M, Missing Scene, Painplay, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, So Wrong It's Right, Soulmates, Spanking, The Master Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-04 12:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17304656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nastally/pseuds/nastally
Summary: Nothing had prepared him for the effect she was having on him. Everything about Missy was achingly familiar and yet not quite right. It was infuriating and extremely enticing.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I am warning you. This gets very dark, very fast. This started out as pure PWP, went all angsty on me, developed three different POVs and has been in the making since the end of series 10. It will consist of 3 chapters and I'm almost done with the 3rd now, so I've decided to post the 1st.  
> It is literally the missing scene following on from s10ep12 "Is it wrong that I...". You know, that time the Master canonically wanted to get off with him/herself: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KNzMDzDMJ5w
> 
> Some references to "The Missy Chronicles", but no need to have read it.

\- - - * - - -

Meeting yourself was always an _experience_ and not always an agreeable one, the Master thought.

He had crossed paths with his past self before, and some of those encounters he did not wish to relive. One could say that a few of his former selves were a little more unhinged than others.

Meeting his _future_ self was a whole different ball game, of course. Nothing had prepared him for the effect she was having on him. Everything about Missy was achingly familiar and yet not quite right. She _was_ him and yet she was a mystery to him.  
It was infuriating and extremely enticing.

Dusty beams of afternoon light fell through the boarded up windows and pierced the abandoned classroom. The Mistress had just realised that he had blown his TARDIS's dematerialisation circuit, thus sentencing them to annihilation by Cybermen army, and he was bracing himself for ridicule and reproach. 

He did not, however, expect to be grabbed by the collar and slammed into a wooden pillar. It knocked the breath out of him. The weight of her body pressed into him, the sharp angles of her face only inches from his. He swallowed. 

"A very long time ago," Missy all but growled, sending a shiver down his spine, "a very scary lady threw me against the wall and made me promise to always, always carry a spare dematerialisation circuit."

She sighed wistfully and released her steely grip on him. A part of him immediately and fervently wished she hadn't. 

"I don't remember much about her now, but..." Still leaning in to him, so close he could smell the hint of perfume she wore, she slid one hand into the front of her jacket. His gaze followed her hand keenly. "She must have made quite an impression."

Her large blue eyes met his as she retrieved a dematerialisation circuit. _Oh._

The Master broke into a self-satisfied smile. Oh, she was _good_. 

"You know you basically have me to thank for this." he informed her, giving the small piece of tech which would be their salvation a few victorious taps with his finger, while simultaneously wondering if her skin was as soft as it looked and how easily it bruised. 

"You're welcome," the Mistress responded sweetly, sliding the spare part into her pocket. 

"By the way," the words escaped him before he could think better of it, "is it wrong... that I..."

He looked down at himself, acknowledging the unmistakable bulge in his trousers. Her gaze followed, then shot back up.

"Yes." she answered firmly, eyes wide. "Very."

"Mhm." Swallowing his disappointment, the Master glanced away, not sure what he had expected. The last few decades had been exceptionally dull and slow. He was starved of excitement, and this right here presented such a unique thrill. If there was one taboo in Time Lord society which he had not yet broken -

The thought slipped away from him as thin, well-mannicured fingers traced the shape of his cock through the fabric of his trousers. His jaw dropped. 

Missy tutted, "What a naughty boy we are." 

It took him an embarrassing amount of willpower to maintain a semblance of self-control and not thrust into her hand like a wanton slut. A minute ago he had been pretty aroused, but now he was positively rock hard and she could certainly tell.  
Her tone of voice, low and dangerous and sweet like honey, raised the hairs at the back of his neck. 

"Huh." The Master smiled his victorious smile again, darker than before, and met her eyes. Now that he came to think of it, when had 'wrong' ever stopped him? 'Wrong' was usually an invitation, not a deterrent.

"I think I'm beginning to see just how..." he started, and paused briefly, biting his lip when Missy tightened her grip on him, "...how I made such a _lasting_ impression on myself."

They gazed at each other adoringly for a long moment. Then he swept her hand up and touched it to his lips. The gentleness of the gesture was alarmingly at odds with the raw hunger in his eyes. Missy giggled and wrinkled her nose. 

"You know, it's taken me a while to realise," His other arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her into him, his cock pressing up against her hip, voice pure velvet. "how much I really... truly... love myself."

"Show me." Missy purred. 

With the sudden ferocity of a cat pouncing on its prey, the Master spun them both around and pushed her into the pillar, trapping her hands above her head. She looked up at him, eyes wide and brimming with anticipation.

"My Lord Master."

_Ohfuck._ He bit his lips, stifling a delighted moan. It was almost embarrassing, the effect she was having on him.

"My Lady Mistress," he managed to respond, somehow mustering enough self control to refrain from ripping her clothes off where they stood, grabbing her by the thighs and ramming himself into her balls deep. Instead he bent down and kissed her as if he meant to punish her seductive tongue, and of course she equalled him in ferocity. When she bit his lower lip he pulled away, baring his teeth.

Missy smiled dangerously. "Do your worst." 

"Oh, I plan to." 

He was about to kiss her again, but stopped short of her lips, pulling back to look at her instead. There was one niggling thought at the back of his mind that he could not shake. It had plagued him for weeks, and now seemed like a good time to get to the bottom of it. 

"Just tell me one thing." He stared down at her, searching her eyes. "Are you and him...?" 

The unfinished question hung in the air between them. Missy stared back, unblinking. Then she bit her lip guiltily, the corner of her mouth turning up into a knowing smile.

"Ugh." The Master grimaced. "I knew it. The way you _look_ at each other."

Missy threw back her head and laughed. Laughed at _him_. His expression hardened and his nostrils flared.

"What-" he hissed, digging his fingers into her wrists. "-is so fucking funny?" 

"Jealous, poppet?" 

"Of him? Hah." he scoffed, leaning in so close that his lips brushed her ear as he spoke. "Given that I'm about to fuck you until you scream, that's a definite no." 

"Promises..." Missy uttered breathlessly, then chuckled: "And I didn't mean of him, you silly sausage. You're jealous of _me_." 

This brought him up short. He thought of the way the Doctor looked at her, the way their hands brushed when they thought he wasn't looking, the softness in the Doctor's voice when he spoke her name - not his, albeit they were one and the same - and how much all of it infuriated him. 

"No." he balked at her suggestion. "I'm _disgusted_."

Missy tutted again, as though admonishing a small child. "Don't lie to me. You're only lying to yourself."

He stared at her, unwilling to think about whether she was right or not. He didn't want to think at all. What was the point in delving into their _feelings_? Anything he felt, these days, ultimately boiled down to white hot rage. He didn't remember what it was like anymore not to spend every waking moment wanting to tear the universe apart with his bare hands. It unnerved him that she did not seem to share that desire. It made him want to hurt her, to remind her of who they were. 

With a growl, the Master bent down and sank his teeth into her neck until she cried out. Missy twisted one hand free from his grasp, grabbed a fistful of his hair and forced him to relent before he broke skin. He licked his lips and stared at the deep red mark forming where his teeth had been.  
Missy attempted to reverse their positions to regain control, but he thrust his thigh between her legs, keeping her pinned in place. His grip on her other wrist tightened enough to bruise, while his free hand set to work on the buttons of her jacket. She made a sound which could have been frustration, pain or lust; or just as likely a mix of the three. It turned into a husky laugh. 

"Well, this is just marvelous, dear. Are we sure we haven't done this before?" 

The Master shrugged. "You tell me. For all I know you've gone back and shagged every last one of us."

"Oh, don't be so crass."

"Why not?" He pursed his lips, taking care of the last button on her jacket and running his hand over her blouse from her waist up across her body, following the contour of her breasts. "Apparently I'm whoring around with the Doctor now. Makes you wonder what else I've been up to." 

The edge might have been his when it came to pure physical strength, but she was scrappy. A well-aimed elbow to the collarbone and she had pushed him off her. The Master stumbled backwards, rubbing his shoulder, but managed to keep his balance.

They began to circle each other. Like predators, ready to kill and devour.

"He kept you, like a pet. Locked away in a cage." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why aren't you _furious_?"

Missy shrugged off her jacket and tossed it onto a nearby school desk with an exasperated sigh. "Must we keep talking about him?" 

He ignored her, casually unbottoning his coat as he spoke. "Thing is, Missy, your story keeps changing. One moment you're a prisoner, the next you're all chummy watching _Disney_."

"Oh, you know what he's like." She waved her hand dismissively. "He doesn't take prisoners, he has them over for tea."

"Precisely." They changed direction as one, circling the other way. "Which makes me wonder. _Were_ you a prisoner? No one can keep us under lock and key for long, not the Daleks, nor the Time Lords, certainly not the Doctor." 

Missy tilted her head, watching him out of the corner of her eye while she untied the silk bow around her neck. "Touché."

"So then?" Never letting her out of his sight, he flung his coat where hers had landed. "Tell me _why_." 

"You know why."

He was about to tell her that really, even in his hearts of hearts, he did not know why, which worried him greatly. But before he could open his mouth, she swooped in on him like a hawk and looped the silk bow around the back of his neck, pulling him in close. Their foreheads collided and he could feel her breath on his lips, as well as the echo of his own mental presence warped through the lens of a different time and physical manifestation. It was rather like looking into a cracked mirror. 

"Hush, now." she said softly. "You talk too much. It's a lesson we're still learning." 

Her lips brushed his and he dug his fingers into her waist, hearts beating in his throat. A part of him wanted to remain angry with her, another part _wanted_ her and a third didn't see why the two shouldn't go hand in hand. 

They attacked simultaneously, biting at each other's lips and tongues delving deep into each other's mouths. Her fingers trailed down his upper body while he steered her towards a large table. When they finally came up for air, the faint metallic taste of blood was in his mouth. There was no telling whose it was. With one swift sweep of his hand, he cleared the table behind her. A checkers board and its pieces went flying to the ground. They were almost joined by the buttons of her blouse, as the urge to rip it open was strong, but he thought better of it. Knowing himself, she would not appreciate having her outfit ruined.  
Instead he unbuttoned them while her fingers busied themselves with his belt. The corset beneath her blouse made him scowl. He did not have time for this nonsense. 

No matter.

With a hungry growl, he buried his face in her exposed cleavage, licking and biting his way up to her neck where the marks he had left were turning a darker shade of red. The noise she made when he sucked on the bruised skin made him rock his hips against her, desperately aroused. He felt her hands on his zipper and pulling at his underwear. 

Moments later her fingers claimed his cock and he moaned into the crook of her neck. She had the advantage of remembering this body, of knowing precisely how he liked to be touched. And oh boy, did she remember. His hips bucked of their own accord, desperate for more.  
But that wasn't _all_ she remembered.

Missy reversed their positions in an almost dance-like move, pushing him up against the table instead. He caught a glimpse of the mischievous smile on her face as she lowered herself to her knees in front of him. 

"Oh..." The Master's mouth fell open. "Now _that_..." He swallowed. "I-I've always... wondered..." 

The ability to form proper sentences seemed to have escaped him momentarily. 

"You're welcome." Missy grinned, her thumb drawing a circle over the tip of his cock while she held it firmly. He whimpered. "My pleasure, so to speak."

Then she leaned in and ran her tongue from the base up, lapping at the tip before her lips closed around it. 

"Nghyes... quite." He braced himself against the table, slack-jawed, watching his cock disappear into her mouth. _H o l y fuck._ Of all the things he could imagine doing with himself, he thought, this was for some reason the most surreal. But oh, it was _good_. She sucked in her cheeks around him, tongue flicking against the tip as her head bobbed up and down on his cock and he lost the ability to think. His knuckles went white as his grip on the table edge tightened.

"Oh god." he moaned, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. "Oh _fuck_." 

Missy gave a low hum that made him shudder and it suddenly dawned on him that if she kept going just like this, just a little bit longer... 

"Shit." He opened his eyes and glanced down at her. "I- ah, fuck! Easy there..." 

She pulled away, and it was a good thing she did, too. He hadn't quite realised how close he was. Even the sensation of her body leaning into him as she came back up again made him tremble. 

"Been a while." he muttered breathlessly, trying to pull himself back from the edge. "Sorry."

There was a moment's pause. 

"Rassilon's saggy scrotum." Missy offered helpfully. 

The Master erupted in laughter and collapsed against her shoulder, then groaned, very much repulsed by the horrific mental image. Although it certainly served its purpose. "Ugh. Blimey. Thank you... for that."

"Oh dear," she grimaced. "too much?"

"No. Well." He shook the thought with a shudder, looking up at her. "I'm sorry, where were we? Ah... _yes_..."

Grabbing her by the hips, he turned them back around and hoisted her up onto the table. Then he ran his hands up her legs slowly, bunching up layers of skirt and underskirts in the process. He'd always liked to dress well, but this was very... elaborate. Missy leaned back on her hands and watched his exploration of her with a sort of nostalgic curiosity. Perhaps she was trying to unearth a shred of memory that had bled through time and would stay with him even after they parted ways. 

"What's it _like_?" he asked, tracing the curve of her legs through the stockings she wore. 

"What?" 

"All of it." He tilted his head, his gaze wandering up from her legs to her slim waist and full breasts. "You know."

Missy thought about it for a moment, rolling her head from one shoulder to the other. "It's a different kind of powerful." 

"Hmm." It was an excellent answer. But then, of course it was. She knew what he wanted to hear.

"Suspenders." he noted approvingly. "Kinky."

"Classy."

"If you say so." The words left his mouth before he could stop himself: "Bet he loves them." 

"What do you think?"

"I..." Stroking the soft skin at the top of her legs, he suddenly found himself preoccupied with a new mental image. One that made him shiver in a whole different way.  
Looking at his own hands on her thighs, he saw the Doctor's long, elegant fingers. Always the same hands, always the same eyes. In his imagination she surrendered herself to those hands and eyes and the man he had vowed to hate and destroy so many times over in his lives. The worrying part was that the thought, while utterly infuriating, was not repulsive. Much to the contrary. 'You know why', her words echoed in his head. He swallowed, actively banishing the entire train of thought from his mind. The Doctor was not going to ruin this for him.

"I think..." His hands converged between her legs and he pulled her panties to one side, sinking his fingers into the wet heat of her cunt. The sound she made in response took care of any remaining stray thoughts. _Oh yes._ He was very much here for this. His fingers began to move and Missy leaned back on her elbows with a low, delighted hum.

"I think I speak for both of us when I say, I'm going to enjoy this." With his free hand he unclipped her suspenders. "Very much."

However, as he bent down to remove her underwear, she took him off guard and dug the heel of her boot into his shoulder, forcing him to his knees.  
None too gently, her fingers pulled at his hair, positioning his head between her thighs.

The Master had a mind to object. This hadn't been part of his plan. He was aching to fuck her.  
But then again, it was no polite request. It was an order. So he obeyed.  
Her scent filled his nostrils, her taste his mouth. With a low moan, he reached down and stroked his painfully hard cock while his tongue familiarised itself with her anatomy.

One heel firmly planted on his shoulder and purring like a kitten, Missy rocked her hips against his face. After a while, she gave a soft chuckle and he stopped, pulling out of her vice grip. 

"I'm sorry, is something funny?" he inquired in an acerbic tone, unable to shake the distinct feeling that he was being laughed at. Again. 

"It's nothing." Missy sighed, then added somewhat furtively: "He's _very_ good at this, you know."

"Oh, _fuck off_."

The Master leaned in and sucked on her clit, hard. Missy drew a sharp breath through her teeth. Then, for good measure, he bit down and delighted in the yelp it produced, although that satisfaction was lessened by a solid blow to the chest with her boot. It knocked him to the floor and she sat up, leaning on her hands. 

"I didn't say 'better'." 

"You didn't have to." He wiped his mouth, glowering at her with a mixture of desire and fury. "And I don't need to _please_ women. I control them." 

There was that laugh again. Derisive, dark and a little bitter. It only incensed him more.

"But of course!" she exclaimed. "Right up until they stab you in the back like they always do."

The Master rolled his head, clicking the vertebrae in his neck. "Like I said. Fickle creatures."

Missy snorted. "So you keep telling yourself."

His eyes flashed hot. "Keep mocking me. See what happens." 

Missy raised an eyebrow. 

"Oh really? How exciting. What are you going to do? Bore me into submission with your relentless chin wagging?"

He was back on his feet in seconds, his hand around her throat before she could utter another word. 

"Bitch." he snarled.

"Coward." she mouthed back without missing a beat.

With a growl, he released her throat and spun her around so she had her back to him, lest she should try to kick him again with those damned heels. Missy tried to sweep his leg out from under him instead, but he anticipated it and evaded her, twisting her arms behind her back. He pulled her close, lips touching her ear.

"Just because I wouldn't harm you, doesn't mean I won't hurt you." 

She gave a mirthless chuckle. "You've been dying to hurt me ever since you realised who I was. Go on then, make my day."

"Don't," he hissed into her ear, twisting her arm painfully. "make me do something I'll regret."

"You wouldn't dare."

He closed his eyes for a moment, wondering if she remembered how dangerously close to the abyss he stood at all times. Just a step away from losing control, from unleashing the terrifying, screaming rage which filled the silence the drums had left behind. Had she forgotten? Perhaps chosen to forget? Oh, how he wanted to remind her. 

"Wouldn't I?"

Pushing her onto the table face down, he lifted her skirts up to expose her arse. Creamy white, flawless skin. Holding her down firmly, he reached for his belt and yanked it free from his trousers. It came loose with a swishing sound.  
It was a nice belt. Thin, simple black leather. He doubled it up in his hand, swung his arm back and brought it down hard. Missy's body jolted and her breath hitched.  
The Master bit his lip, admiring the pink welt as it formed. _Fuck._ He was like a shark in the water, smelling blood. He wanted more. The belt whizzed through the air and landed with another sharp smack. Then another. And another. Then he administered several lashes in quick succession. Each less forgiving than the last.

One. Two. Three. Four. _Five_. 

The last few made her writhe and whimper through gritted teeth. But he wasn't done. He struck her again and again, until he lost count. Until sweat was beading on his brow and his arm ached. Until her arse was covered in welts all criss-cross and some blood red. Until, although she would not cry out, her whole body shook and betrayed the pain he had inflicted.  
Only then did he lower his arm, trembling and breathing heavily.

A strange mixture of satisfaction and trepidation filled him, together with the growing awareness that they had somehow sailed straight past plain 'wrong' and landed some place far more deranged and dangerous instead. He let go of her arms and looped the belt around her neck, pulling her back up against him.

"I, um... I'm going to have some regrets in a few hundred years." he swallowed. "Aren't I." 

She leaned back into him, her breathing ragged, pressing the hot bruised skin of her arse right up against his cock. 

"Oh _fuck_ , Missy," he couldn't help but moan, reminded of his desperate need for release.

"Is that all you got?" she finally asked, defiant to the end. "Poor old Lucy's had worse."

He laughed, and so did she. Because it was true, and because this was insane, and he was insane, and she was, too. Her hand came up and cupped his cheek and for a moment, everything was right with the world.  
She turned her head toward him and he nuzzled her temple. A drop of gentleness in a sea of violence. His free hand sought out the tender skin he had treated so cruelly, fingers digging into her soft flesh. The sound she produced was delectable.

"Hold me." she purred. 

"Kiss me." he responded. 

"Fuck me." she breathed, making him shudder.

She did not have to tell him twice. He renewed his grip on the belt around her neck and pushed her back down onto the table, steadying his cock with the other hand. They both gasped as he rammed himself into her. Again, and again, and again. The table creaked. He smacked her arse and Missy bit down on her knuckle, her moans interspersed with a few choice profanities. The Master pulled the belt tighter, pushing down on her hip as he set a merciless pace.

"Is he... better... at this... too?" His words were punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin, and her choked whimpers.

There was no need for her to answer, nor could she, with the leather belt looped firmly around her throat. Perhaps too firmly, but he decided to let her respiratory bypass system worry about that. And anyway, he knew the answer. There was no comparison. The Doctor had never and would never fuck them like this.

If you wanted something done right, you had to do it yourself.

\- - - * - - -


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is insane." The Doctor pleaded with himself, realising what he was about to do. Let the records show that he was aware of that fact.
> 
> Then, he closed the distance between them and kissed her with all the desperation in his hearts. 
> 
> "Seriously?!" the Master exclaimed, but in that moment, neither of them paid him any mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Twissy part of the story you've all been waiting for. Oh, and also this chapter is honestly probably "wronger" than the previous one, and that's saying something. So there, I warned you.

\- - - * - - -

The Doctor was dying, but that was the least of his worries.

As much as he refused to abandon hope, for her sake as much as his own, he knew Bill's life was lost. Like so many others before her, her inevitable death would always be on his conscience.

However, Bill was not the only friend he had lost the moment Missy's past caught up with them. He wasn't sure, and didn't want to be sure, but it certainly seemed as though he had lost Missy, too.

For the better part of a century, they had tentatively allowed each other in. After two thousand years apart, they had begun to grow back together. It was something he had not thought possible in his wildest dreams. Something he hadn't dared to even _hope_ for, until it became so real. So _real_.  
And yet, with the arrival of her former self, she had withdrawn from him so fast that it had left him stunned.

Was it possible that none of it had mattered to her, in the end?

The idea made him feel sick to his stomach.  
If it were true, he did not think he would be able to walk away from this mentally and emotionally unscathed.

Not that he harboured much hope of walking away at all.

He deemed his chances of surviving the Cyberman attack close to nil, especially in his current condition. This body did not have much time left, and the thought of regeneration was daunting. The alternative seemed appealing. Worryingly so.

_Time enough, Doctor._

A part of him wanted to disappear into the uninhabited depths of the universe and never set eyes on a human face again, nor Gallifreyan, none at all. If only the universe were willing to let him go in peace.

But there were children to be saved and friends to comfort. Friends to be saved and children to comfort. It was the eve of war and he was their beacon of hope. It wasn't fair, but it was right.

So he instilled confidence, led preparations and strategised until he knew he could do no more for these people. The day was coming to a close when he finally found himself alone, wandering abandoned farmland while everyone congregated in secure locations.

They were going to need a miracle. 

He stopped, leaning on his make-shift walking stick. Blood had seeped through the bandage on his hand and his leg ached, but he had desperately needed a moment alone to clear his head. Away from everybody and out in the open (or the illusion of it), he momentarily felt relieved.  
He closed his eyes, listening to the artificial wind in the trees, and found himself thinking of his childhood home. This was surprising, but not unwelcome. Far away and long ago, everything was only beginning.

The thought was comforting.

The Doctor opened his eyes again and wiped his brow with the back of his bandaged hand, scanning the buildings in the distance.

It was impossible to think of his childhood without remembering his oldest friend. The two were inextricably linked.  
He knew he had to speak to them one last time before the storm hit. He had to at least try.

The devious duo had been absent all day, but over the last couple of days they seemed to have designated the now abandoned village school as their private lair. Bracing himself, physically and emotionally, he headed straight for it. 

Time was of the essence, so he did not hesitate, but left his stick leaning against the wall which surrounded the wooden school building, limping up to the door. The noises coming from inside registered on the periphery of his mind, but not in time to give him pause. 

With a quick courtesy rap and no intention of awaiting a reply, he stepped inside, looked up and immediately stopped dead in his tracks.

Of all the things he had expected to see, that was not one.

 _That_ was not something he had _ever_ expected to see.

Trying to retreat quickly and discreetly, he turned away and awkwardly stumbled over his own feet instead, colliding with the door frame.

The room went completely silent for a moment. Then the Master cursed amidst the rustling of clothes while the Doctor cringed inwardly, placing one hand on the door knob. Maybe it wasn't too late to just keep walking? 

"Doctor."

Missy's voice was hoarse. He wasn't sure if she sounded surprised, annoyed or amused. He didn't fancy turning around to find out.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Her male counterpart definitely sounded more than a little irritated.

"Sorry." he muttered, feeling himself blush furiously. "I- I did... I, uhm."

"Awkward..." Missy trilled.

There was more rustling of material and a dramatically exasperated sigh from the Master. "Some fucking timing you have."

"What?" His ears and cheeks may have been burning, but he was also coming to the realisation that he was not the one who ought to be embarrassed here. "Some timing _I_ have?"

He turned back around slowly, no longer caring whose privacy he invaded. The Master, who had thankfully pulled up his trousers, was standing with his arms crossed next to Missy, who was leaning against the table behind her, a hot mess of half-unbuttoned clothes, hair that had come undone and smudged lipstick.  
Neither of them had the decency to look at all ashamed of themselves.  
And suddenly, the Doctor was furious with them.

He took a step forward, raising an accusing finger while his brows knotted angrily. 

"Let's get one thing straight, shall we? And I don't know why I'm surprised, because frankly, I shouldn't be. But there is something really, fundamentally wrong with you. This entire place," he gestured to the outside, "will be ashes and death hours from now, and you, you think now's a good time for- for whatever the _hell_ you think you're doing here? Which, _by the way_ -" Lost for words to address what he had just witnessed, he threw up his hands and gave them a look of genuine disgust mixed with disbelief. 

Missy wrinkled her nose and gave a squeak of laughter, like a naughty child unfazed by reproach. The Master raised an eyebrow and leaned over to her, his eyes on the Doctor: "Look who's jealous now."

"Shush, you." She admonished him, placing a finger on his lips. He bit at it playfully. Missy tutted. "Stop it. Can't you see daddy dearest is ever so cross? I think we're in for-"

Before she had finished speaking, the Doctor had slammed the door shut with enough force to make the walls shudder. He strode across the room towards them, causing the Master to involuntarily shrink back and brace himself against the table.  
Perhaps he was expecting to be struck.  
His instrinct was not wrong.

The Doctor had a good mind to punch either one of them.

"Is _every_ thing a joke to you!"

Missy blew air out between her lips, studying her nails. "Obviously not. TARDIS maintenance, for example, I take _very_ seriously. Unlike some people."

He rolled his eyes at her and turned to the Master, who met his indignant stare firmly.

"I'll tell you what isn't a joke." The Master cocked his head, pursing his lips the way this regeneration was prone to when angered. The Doctor remembered it well. "Being thrown back into the Time War after I saved your life. _That_ was no laughing matter. Being left on Gallifrey to rot, at Rassilon's mercy, for _centuries_. All because the great, magnificient Doctor decided to time-lock the entire planet and forgot about it!"

"I _saved_ it!" The Doctor replied, somewhere between anguish and anger. Then quietly added: "I saved you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Missy turning her head sharply to look at him.

The Master snorted with derision and crossed his arms over his chest again. "You trapped me. I saved _myself_. I left that hellhole without any help, least of all yours. Same as always."

Knowing exactly how to hit a nerve and take the wind right out of the other's sails was something they both excelled at.

The Doctor hesitated. "There was nothing I could have done-"

"Oh, spare me your bleeding hearts." The Master dismissed him coldly. "You couldn't have cared less about me. You never do, unless it furthers your own agenda."

For a moment, the Doctor stood stunned, mouth agape.

"You know that isn't true."

"Do I? Count the times you've left me to die." A joyless smirk was on the Master's lips. "Go on. I'll wait."

"How about I count the times you refused my help? Or the times you've tried to kill me?" The Doctor retorted bitterly. "I promise you that list is substantially longer."

" _Good._ " The Master's eyes flared up. "Shall we add to it?"

"Gentlemen." Missy cut through the building tension between them. "Ça suffit. Let's not get carried away... I do believe the Doctor was just leaving."

She met his eyes with an insistent gaze, but he shook his head. "I'm not leaving."

"Yes, my dear. You are." It was not so much a request as it was a warning, but he did not heed it.

"Missy." He said softly, allowing himself to really look at her, taking stock of the bruises covering her neck. A willing victim of her own violence. It turned his stomach. "This isn't you. Not anymore."

She made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh, and averted her eyes.

"Come with me." He implored her, and for a brief moment, he thought it might work. Until she raised her eyes back up to him, and the look she gave him made his hearts sink. 

"I don't think so."

He stared at her. "Why not?" 

"Because you can't overturn millennia with a few decades, dear." As impassive as her voice was, the glimmer of regret in her eyes betrayed her. "Don't be so naive."

'Yes, you can. _Yes, you can!_ ', he wanted to shout at her. But what difference would it have made if she didn't want to listen? Every passing second brought her decision home with increasing finality.

"So that's it?" 

Missy swallowed, then shrugged, as if to say: 'What did you expect?'

The Doctor nodded, tired, heartbroken and defeated. But before he could bid his farewell, cruel laughter shattered the moment. 

"You really thought she was coming with _you_? You poor, deluded old man."

With a deep sigh, the Doctor closed his eyes and ran his hands down his face. He was past anger now.

"Stop. Just stop." He dropped his hands by his sides and faced the Master. "Aren't you tired of fighting me every single step of the way? What for? What are you trying to prove? Is it still about winning, because you've won. Look at me. You've _won_." He glanced at Missy, who avoided his eyes, and back at her younger self. "And you know what? I don't care. Because I never wanted to win. So please listen to me, just this once, because I don't have the energy to keep trying to get this through your thick skull, and I've been trying for a very, _very_ long time. Just- just _hear_ me. Master. I am not, and never have been, your enemy. I never stopped trying to be your friend. And I never wanted you to stop being mine. And it may be foolish, it may be in vain and who knows, maybe I'm much more of an idiot than I give myself credit for, but one thing I have never done, is give up on you." His voice hitched. "And I never will, even if it kills me." 

For a second, he thought he saw something in the other man's face. A spark of emotion, a flicker of self-doubt. Beside him, Missy was watching herself with bated breath. But the moment passed.

"Wow." The Master retorted with his usual smirk. But it didn't reach his eyes and seemed strangely forced. "I really wish you knew just how much I don't give a damn." 

The Doctor laughed sadly and shook his head. They had somehow come full circle. What Missy had been trying to say to him in the graveyard, words he had balked at, was all he could say now, and it wasn't enough.

At least not for the man in front of him.

All of a sudden, Missy's fingers touched his hand, her voice barely a whisper.

"Doctor."

His hearts leapt. He took her hand in his without hesitation, like a drowning man reaching for a lifeline. Then he looked at her and saw the mask crumble. Her eyes glistened as she slid into the space between him and the Master, and realising what that meant, he felt a sheen of tears cloud his own.  
Where there were tears, there was hope.  
Always hope. 

"Please." He whispered, pulling her close and resting his forehead against hers. "Don't leave. Don't leave me."

Instead of a reply, the Mistress kissed him.

He kissed her back without a second thought. His hands came up to cradle her face while the kiss grew longer and deeper, neither of them paying any heed to the man behind her who was standing very, very still.

Her arms wrapped around him and he instinctively embraced her in return, not sure if he felt like laughing or crying.  
Any moment now, the ascending Cybermen army would reach this level aboard the ship.  
Any moment now, they would be rudely interrupted by her former self.  
Any moment now...

But this world was not ending just yet. Their lips parted and Missy placed a kiss on his cheek, his jaw, just below his ear.  
He glanced up over her shoulder and found himself locking eyes with the Master, who had not moved an inch from his position at the edge of the table. There was a very peculiar expression on his face. The Doctor couldn't decipher it. 

"All out of snide remarks?" he said, without malice. Making light of disturbing situations was, after all, a bit of a habit. "Must be a first."

It caught the Master off guard in a moment of vulnerability and his nervous chuckle lacked the usual coldness.

"Yeah." He smirked, collecting himself. "Now if we could get _you_ to shut up..."

The Doctor grinned. There it was, behind all the anger, all the hurt and vindictiveness built up over centuries; the genuine camaraderie they shared. It was always just below the surface.

His attention abruptly returned to Missy, who had snaked one hand beneath his jacket and was stroking his lower back through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Erm..." As he turned back, her mouth found his again.  
There was no mistaking the way she was kissing him now. He knew it well. But that had been in the vault. And in the depths of the TARDIS. This, here, was quite different. Surely she couldn't be serious.

"Don't..." He murmured against her lips, pulling back. She took it as an invite to turn her affection to his neck.

_Surely._

"Missy, no." He repeated, trying to sound authoritative even though he shivered at her touch. His hands awkwardly hovered around her waist. "There's a time and a place."

'Also, there are two of you and at least one of you wants to kill me, so I have my concerns about where this is going', he added mentally.

"I'm too tired." He blurted out and immediately felt ridiculous. As if somehow there weren't enough reasons why her advances seemed like utter madness. 

"Liar liar..." She licked his ear, running her hand along the waistband of his trousers, and down between his legs. "...pants on fire."

The Doctor bit down on his lips and closed his eyes. He was Pavlov's dog, so accustomed to the intimacy they had shared over the last century that his body responded without consulting him. He summoned his wits in what felt like a Herculean effort and pulled her hand away. "Stop."

"Yes." To his relief, Missy finally relented and took a small step back. "Of course. Sorry." 

The Master was staring at her as if she had veritably lost her mind, but she did not dignify him with a glance while her fingers danced over her lips, as though she was trying to solidify the memory of the kiss they had just shared.

"I'll miss the eyebrows." She said fondly.

It was then that he understood her.  
She knew he was dying. In one way, if not the other. Of course she knew. 

They had come to the end of the road. These were their last moments together, as they were now. The first two versions of them in an eternity who had somehow almost found their way back to each other. Who had come so close to a completely new beginning. 

That knowledge had been difficult to bear before, when he had not been sure whether she was still at all invested in anything that had happened between them. But now, as she was standing there, looking at him with those eyes, it was excruciating. 

It was infuriating. 

It wasn't _fair._

And he didn't want to stop kissing her, either. 

He hadn't lied. He _was_ too tired. Too tired to be better than this, to be exemplary, to be the voice of reason. 

"This is insane." he pleaded with himself, realising what he was about to do. Let the records show that he was aware of that fact.

Then, he closed the distance between them and kissed her with all the desperation in his hearts. 

" _Seriously_?!" the Master exclaimed, but in that moment, neither of them paid him any mind.

Missy reciprocated in kind, sliding her arms around him underneath his coat. The fabric of his shirt still separated his skin from her touch, but he felt the urgency of it regardless.  
His hands tightened around her waist as he bent lower, breaking the kiss and burying his face in her hair. The longer he lived, the sweeter and more familiar her scent became to him in a universe which barely remembered the days when they had been so young and full of hope. The tip of his nose brushed her skin, and he couldn't help but press his lips down on it, savouring it as he slowly kissed a trail down her neck to her shoulder. Careful and gentle where the other had been so viciously rough.

Not without apprehension, he opened his eyes and peered over her shoulder. The Master's mouth hung open slightly as he watched them with a mixture of alarm and disbelief. It looked as though he wanted to speak, but knew not what to say. That hint of raw emotion was back, but this time it lingered and expanded into something more. A desire, a realisation. And suddenly he seemed conflicted, almost lost, unsure whether he wanted to bolt from the room in anger, or-

_Or._

Their eyes met, and the Doctor found himself overcome with the urge to hold out his hand to him. But instead, it was Missy who did. Without so much as a glance over her shoulder, she stretched out one hand behind herself and the Master lowered his eyes, staring at it intently for a very long moment. Then he swallowed, and took it, allowing her to draw him closer. 

"S'ppose I won't remember..." he murmured under his breath, threading the fingers of his other hand through a large loose curl of Missy's hair. She gave a soft laugh that dissolved into a sigh as he pulled her head back onto his shoulder and leaned in to drag his lips along her throat. The Doctor watched them with no small amount of awe, hearts pounding in his chest, as she turned in to the Master and met his mouth eagerly.  
All the while her fingers were undoing the buttons on the Doctor's waistcoat.

Surely this was a strange fever dream? Surely, none of this could be happening? And yet, he knew it was real and yes, it _was_ insane. Completely and utterly so. But then, who in the entire universe was fit to judge them now? 

From a corner of his mind, the Doctor watched himself pull the sonic screwdriver from his pocket and point it back over his shoulder. The lock on the door clicked into place. Missy gave an approving hum. 

With a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes again and lost himself in her scent and the feel of her skin. His fingers traced the soft curve of her breasts above the corset. Unlike the Master, he had experience with the intricate clasps which fastened it at the front. By the time his coat and waistcoat fell to the floor, most of them were undone. Missy moaned into the Master's mouth when the Doctor cupped one of her breasts and rolled the nipple between his fingers. 

She turned back to him and his lips found hers again, colliding in a passionate kiss. His other hand brushed the Master's in a joined effort to lift up her skirts. Almost without meaning to, the Doctor's hand abandoned Missy's body in favour of the Master's arm. It travelled up, tracing the shape of his biceps through his shirt, over the shoulder and across, until the tips of his fingers touched bare skin at the nape of the other man's neck. The Master exhaled sharply and the Doctor found himself shivering with excitement. He hadn't _intended_ to go there, he most truly had not. But then again, none of this was going according to anybody's plan, least of all his. As always, when the Master was involved, things had a habit of escalating.

Their combined intimate presence was wreaking havoc on all of his senses. The temporal as well as the far more basic parts of his biology. It was impossible to separate them completely in his mind. Much as they represented very different stages of his relationship with the Master, they were still one and the same person. 

Two hands began to loosen his belt while another impatiently pushed its way inside his trousers and past the waistband of his underwear. The eager noise he made was muffled against Missy's lips, but it did not go unnoticed. The Master gave a throaty, self-satisfied hum. 

So 'there' was most definitely on the cards, he thought. And somewhere at the back of his mind, he wondered what in the world he had got himself into. However, at the forefront was a myriad of intoxicating sensations. In no small part, the hand firmly stroking his cock. 

He broke away from her lips and leaned down, closing his mouth around one of her nipples while his fingers toyed with the other.  
The breathlessly delighted sounds she made went straight to his groin and he involuntarily bucked his hips, pushing himself into the Master's hand. The other man's hold on his cock tightened, making him whimper. Missy arched her chest up to meet his caresses, leaning back against her former self, who steadied her. When the Doctor released her nipple from between his teeth, the other man reached around and aggressively claimed it.

Meanwhile, the Doctor's free hand found its way between her legs and Missy moaned softly when he touched her, hips jerking forward. He couldn't help but echo the sound as his fingertips began to draw circles over her clit.

She was so wet. Of course she was.

He remembered what he had walked in on not even twenty minutes ago. Frankly, he doubted he'd ever be able to erase it from his mind. Only now, it no longer seemed so shocking, all things considered. Now, recalling the image of her past self mercilessly fucking her made his cock twitch in the Master's hand.

"Oh yes, oh... don't stop, don't stop, don't you dare-" She threw her head back onto the Master's shoulder, one hand tangling in the Doctor's hair. He watched her with the utmost adoration while his long fingers caressed her like the strings of his guitar. Until she came, rocking her hips against his hand uncontrollably and crying out. The Master wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his face in her neck and hair as if he wanted to share in her pleasure. And perhaps he did. 

Missy opened her eyes, breathing heavily. A smile flitted across her lips as she pulled the Doctor into a deep, languid kiss. The Master released her and stepped aside as she moved backward, pulling the Doctor with her, until they came up against the edge of the table. He stumbled on unsteady legs. It was a brief reminder that his physical condition left much to be desired. Only right now he was barely aware of pain and exhaustion.  
Holding his gaze, Missy sat up on the table, lifted her skirts out of the way and spread her thighs. She was inviting him to take her, and nothing else in the universe mattered.  
His fingers dragged over her stockings and the exposed skin above, and up to her hips where her garments were bunched up.

Her thighs were soft.

Reaching down between them, he loosely ran his hand up and down the length of his cock, spreading the drops of precum which had pearled at the tip.  
Her legs wrapped around him and pulled him close, until the tip of his cock was braced against the opening of her slick, hot pussy. His hand on her hip, hers cradling his face, he pushed inside and moaned at the excruciating delight of it. Their foreheads touched, her hot breath on his lips. The intensity was electrifying. 

And still her mind evaded him. She wasn't allowing him in the way she had before, and he had an inkling why, although it didn't matter now. This was enough. The way they embraced and melted into each other, the way their movements synchronised almost immediately when he pulled back and thrust into her again and she rolled her hips, grinding against him, the way the sensation of her took his breath away, was enough. 

Exhaling shakily, the Doctor lowered his head onto her shoulder, holding her as close as physical reality permitted while they moved together. Slowly, gently. It hadn't always been this way. But right now, he just wanted to love her.

Because that was the truth of the matter. Their relationship was ancient and immeasurably complicated. Often it defied understanding. They never spoke of love, these days, because such a simple word could never do it justice. However, at this most basic, physical level of existence, he loved her. With every breath, and every part of his being. 

When he felt a hand on his back he was taken by surprise, both by the Master's presence and proximity. For a few moments, he had all but managed to forget about her past incarnation in the room. The touch was gentle as the hand travelled down his back, slipped beneath his shirt and wandered back up over bare skin. Fingertips ghosting over his shoulders as if the other man was afraid to touch him, although he certainly hadn't been shy about it a little while ago. That, or he was hesitating as he contemplated his next move.  
Just then the Doctor felt the warmth of the Master's body press up against his own. One hand rounded his waist and slid up his torso underneath his shirt. It stopped right between his racing hearts. His hips bucked involuntarily, breaking pace for a moment, while Missy moaned softly and held him closer. 

"Doctor." They whispered in unison. Her lips by his ear and the Master's voice so close that he could feel the other's breath on the back of his neck. His knees very nearly gave out. The good one as well as the bad. For a perfect moment, past and present melted into one. 

The Doctor gripped Missy's hips with trembling fingers, relishing the sensual throaty sounds she was making as she arched back. The Master's hands roamed his body, his hot breath at the nape of his neck, and left him shivering with need. Running his hand down along her thigh, he lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder and found just the right angle.  
Missy produced a noise somewhere between a whine and a growl and let herself fall back onto the table. Her moans descended into an incoherent mix of profanities and approval. Placing one hand on either side of her, he increased the pace. Gentleness gave way to passion as he hit that sweet spot again and again. To say that Missy enjoyed the perks of a female body would have been an understatement. She was a creature of excess, always had been. It was no wonder then that they had become quite good at this over the years, truly, they had. She could close her mind to him and deny him the thrill of sharing in her pleasure, but nonetheless he knew her well, and knew her body. Knew it would drive her wild if he leaned down and bit her nipple, just so. Knew when to slow down and leave her desperate for more, rocking her hips up to meet his, only to pick up pace again, hard and fast and deep. Until she was begging him to keep going again and arching her back, her body trembling with ecstasy while her muscles contracted around him. She came hard and almost tore him down with her, breaking their rhythm as she wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled herself up against him. Their lips collided and he sank his fingers into her messy hair and his tongue deep into her mouth, wishing to remember the taste of her forever, and at the same time knowing all too well that he _would_ , which was a worse fate still.  
Even as the tremors of her orgasm ebbed away, he felt the heat of the Master's body leaning into him again, hands firmly on his hips. The unmistakable hardness of the other man's erection pressed up against his arse. Not by accident, but with very deliberate urgency. The Doctor's hearts leapt into his throat. He broke the kiss and looked at Missy, who was gazing at herself over his shoulder with half-hooded eyes. The Master tugged at the Doctor's trousers and pulled them down further, exposing his arse fully. 

Missy turned her gaze to him, lips parted and cheeks flushed, rocking her hips against him. It made him shudder and he couldn't help but move with her. 

"Missy..."

The Master squeezed his arse and ran his fingernails across his skin. It sent shivers up his spine. 

"Wait." He didn't think he had ever been so desperately turned on and panicked at the same time before. "I-I don't..."

"Shh." Missy held him in a tight embrace. "It's me. It's just me."

He heard the Master spit into his hand and his stomach took a dive down a bottomless pit. But before he had a chance to voice any further objections, two fingers, slick with saliva, pushed inside of him.

He gasped and the other man chuckled, lips brushing the back of his neck. 

"Relax. I'm not trying to hurt you..." He paused, leaning his cheek against the Doctor's back, and pushed in deeper. "...much." 

The Doctor inhaled sharply though clenched teeth. 

The Master tutted. "I _did_ say relax."

"Shut up." He managed to retort, trying to heed the advice, nonetheless. 

Missy was all the tenderness her former self lacked. Her hands smoothed over his hair, her soft lips caressed his cheek and temple, he was buried up to the hilt in her wonderful velvet heat and it helped. It helped immensely. She drew his focus back to her with a kiss, tongue plunging deep into his mouth. 

The Master's fingers matched their pace, pushing a little further with every thrust and slowly discomfort began to give way to pleasure. Just then the Master curled his fingers slightly, _right there_ , and the Doctor all but cried out. 

"Nghgod! Ahh... _yes_ -" 

"Not so fast." 

The Master's voice was fire and ice. Suddenly, his fingers were gone, leaving the Doctor teetering close to the edge, trembling and dazed with desire. But then, he felt the other man's cock press up against him, demanding entry, and his stomach took a dive down a bottomless pit. _Oh god._ This was really happening.

With one unforgiving thrust, the Master was inside him. 

"Fuck! Ah...! Ahh..." The Doctor collapsed on top of Missy, who enveloped him in a tight embrace. 

"Breathe..." She whispered. 

Without hesitation, the Master began to move, burying himself inside him to the hilt with every thrust.

His excitement mitigated some of the pain but it _hurt_. He couldn't catch his breath, at first. He was completely and utterly at their mercy, and the Master had none.

"Remember?" Missy's nails dug into his back. "Remember when you used to _beg_ for me?"

"I remember." The Master continued her thought, voice trembling with unbridled lust as he pulled back and thrust into him over and over. "Mmmhyeah, I remember..." 

Of course he remembered.

But everything had been different, then.  
They never used to hurt each other, then.

Their hold on him was perfect, their movements flawlessly synchronised. All he could do was give himself over. Slowly, the initial pain began to subside and he found himself gasping, no longer for air but in time with the Master's thrusts. The other man broke pace, slowed down and rolled his hips, and the Doctor moaned.

" _Fuck_." He repeated, only this time it was punctuated with a guttural groan of pleasure. His senses were on fire. The overload of sensations converged into a heady mixture until he was no longer able to think. _Painpleasure_ washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning out reality, until nothing else existed in all of time and space but this moment. It left him whimpering and clawing at the table cloth, his cock sliding in and out of her with each of the Master's relentless thrusts. Nobody else had ever been capable of reducing him to such a _state_ , physically and emotionally, except for them.  
Until it was too much and he could take no more. With a desperate, animalistic cry, he fell over the edge and into darkness, safe for the sparks exploding behind his eyes.

"Fuck," The Master echoed breathlessly, pounding into him hard and fast. "Fuck _yes_ , oh Doctor, oh god _ohgodyes_ -"

His arm wrapped around the Doctor's chest and pulled him up against him as he came with a growl, burying his face in his shoulder. Missy pulled herself up and wrapped her arms around the both of them even as the last tremors of his own orgasm subsided. He instinctively slid one arm around her and reached back with the other, where it came to rest on the Master's hip. They lingered in this unlikely embrace, breathing as one, a tangle of trembling bodies, heartbeats and emotion. And for a brief moment, there was a chink in the Master's armour. A tiny window thrown wide open in the fortress of his mind, just enough to catch a glimpse of an emotion. The Doctor recognised it instantly, for it resonated in him, and his mind put a word to it even as the window closed and the feeling faded:

H o m e. 

But as the room came back into focus around them, so did reality. The Master was the first to let go. And when he pulled away, the Doctor realised his legs were not going to support his weight any longer. He staggered backwards and sank to the floor. Managed to catch himself with his injured hand and winced. Tried to sit and winced again.

Tilting his head back with a whimper, he let his eyes fall shut and decided that lying down on the wooden floor was as good an option as any for the moment. 

His entire body ached.  
He absently wondered if anyone had ever regenerated after a particularly intense sexual encounter. It was a bit of an urban myth, back on Gallifrey. Or it had been anyway, among the students at the Academy, when they were young. Oh, when they were young...  
'Of all the ways you've ever tried to kill me,' he thought and snorted with laughter because it was all so ridiculous. It came out sounding more like a sob and he draped an arm over his face, feeling light-headed. 

"I think we broke him, Sis." the Master remarked from somewhere across the room. 

The table creaked.

"Doctor?" Missy called softly, closer to him. 

"No." he groaned. 

No, he wasn't ready to open his eyes.  
No, he couldn't quite wrap his mind around what had just happened.  
No, he wasn't fine. 

Far from it. 

A belt buckle clanged against the table. Heels clicked past him on the floorboards and a piece of clothing landed on his chest. He felt for it and found his waistcoat.

"Put your clothes on. You look disgraceful."

Her voice carried a gentleness that was at odds with her words. The Doctor harrumphed stubbornly in response.  
The room grew uncomfortably quiet except for the rustle of clothes. With a deep sigh, he forced himself to lift up his hips and pulled up his trousers.

"So, uhm..." he started when the silence began to feel oppressive, but immediately realised he couldn't think of any words to follow that up with.  
Except one that did come to mind. 

"Cybermen."

"Yes." Missy replied. "Good luck with that."

Reality cut through the haze in his mind like a cold slap across the face. He frowned, finally cracking one eye open.

"What?"

Missy was sitting on a chair, buttoning up her blouse. Behind her, her younger self stood, once more immaculately dressed, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. 

"Good luck," the Master said and added, not without sincerity: "You'll need it."

Hands in the pockets of his unbuttoned coat and ankles crossed, he was the very image of detachment. Suddenly the idea that only moments prior they had been wrapped in a passionate embrace seemed unreal and ludicrous.  
The Doctor propped himself up on one elbow and rolled onto his side, regarding them with a sinking feeling in his chest.

"You're leaving." he stated lamely, not entirely sure what he had expected. With a pang of bitter disappointment he realised that, once again, he had dared to hope. For something, anything.

Anything but cold indifference. 

"Aww." The Master pursed his lips and tilted his head back against the wall. "He thought you had changed your mind. That's so sweet." He casually produced Missy's silk ribbon from his pocket just as she finished buttoning her blouse and passed it to her. "And _so_ sad." 

The Doctor very deliberately ignored him as he watched her tie it in a bow around her collar. It did a wonderful job concealing the bruises on her neck. Much as she was trying to seem nonchalant, she was not succeeding as well as the Master. There was an unsteadiness about her fingers and a tremble in her breath. Her eyes darted around the room restlessly, avoiding his gaze. 

"Missy." he heard himself say, his voice hoarse. It sounded like a plea. She reached up and began to pull pins out of her disheveled hair. The messy curls, some of which had already come undone, fell onto her shoulders, creating an illusion of softness and fragility. 

"Staying would be suicide." she stated, placing a few pins between her lips and twisting her hair back up to secure it in place. "And that, my dear, is not my style."

"You don't know that." he said quietly, and gave a sad chuckle. "Haven't we dealt with worse? You used to say we could rule the universe together, if we put our minds to it."

The last pin disappeared into the thick mass of dark hair and she paused, lowering her hand and touching her fingers to her lips. The Master had straightened up and opened his eyes, regarding him with suspicion. 

"You'd never consider it." he said. 

"No." the Doctor admitted. "Never."

The Master huffed and looked away, while the Doctor turned back to Missy.

"But not because I don't believe it possible. And now you're telling me we can't take on one lousy army of Cybermen between us?"

Her refusal to so much as meet his eye was beginning to infuriate him and he lifted himself up off the ground too fast. Swaying on unsteady legs, he clutched the edge of the table for support. Missy unfroze and rose as well, shying away from him as soon as he took a step toward her and rounding the chair to position it between them like a barrier. The gesture brought him up short. 

"Look at me, at least." he said, wounded. "I think you owe me that much."

Missy lifted her eyes up to him, fingers running up and down the splintered wood of the backrest. Her expression was tense, a thin, joyless smile on her lips. 

"You should have left," she said quietly, "when I told you to go."

"Don't say that." the Master interjected. "We had such fun. Didn't we have _fun_?" 

"Shut up." the Doctor snapped at him. "I'm not talking to you right now."

The Master shot him a sharp look. "Oh? But you _are_."

"Not your timeline." the Doctor retorted through gritted teeth. "Not your turn." 

"He's right, you know."

Missy looked back over her shoulder, addressing her former self. "I'll do the honours. You can go, I won't be a minute." 

"Door's locked," the Master replied innocently, nodding towards the exit. "But don't let me disturb you. I'm dying to hear what you have to say." 

There was suspicion in his voice. 

"Please." he gestured for her to carry on and resumed his position against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "For future reference, and all that."

After a pause, a hint of hesitation, Missy gave a small nod. 

The Doctor watched her turn back to him slowly, a sort of stoic resolve in her eyes. 

"I don't understand why- how you can..." He faltered, lost for words. 

"What?" Missy raised an eyebrow and her hand steadied on the back of the chair. Something seemed to shift into place as she slipped into cruelty with ease, almost with relief. This was familiar territory, right there, behind the walls he had spent decades breaking down. 

"How dare I choose myself? Over you? It may come as a surprise to your gargantuan sense of self-importance, but you are not the be-all and end-all of my existence." 

"I never said I was." he replied, and added softly: "I just- I just don't want to lose you again." 

Missy held his gaze, unwavering. If there were quivers of emotion beneath the surface, he could not see them now and it frightened him. That she was be capable of shutting him out, just like that, at the drop of a hat. To what end? If it was to torment him then she was succeeding.  
There was no difference now in her demeanor to the man who stood behind her. They were one and the same. Detached. Impenetrable. He thought of the way her eyes had glistened when she took his hand, whispering his name. The way they had kissed, as if their lives depended on it. He thought of the Master, and pain, and desperation. 

He wondered if he only ever saw what he wanted to see. 

No. It _couldn't_ be.

Missy tilted her head, watching him out of the corner of her eye. 

"You never had me." She stepped out from behind the chair. "Did you really think you could _tame_ me, Doctor?"

He shook his head. "All I ever wanted was to help you. You know that. Missy, you _know_ that." 

"How predictably sanctimonious of you." She rolled her eyes and studied her nails, before looking back up at him, cold contempt in her ice blue eyes. "Don't sugarcoat it, love. I was your prisoner. I will admit, I began to doubt my own mind, locked up in that horrid little dungeon of yours. I was so _bored_ , Doctor." 

She sighed and slowly began to circle him, keeping a notable distance. 

"Any old thing seemed appealing, after a while. The most primitive of entertainment. All those silly films... bland human cuisine. Even you, as it turns out. And you, oh, you were so _very_ willing to believe in my miraculous reformation. Oh, please, Doctor." she lilted in a high-pitched voice, feigning innocence. "I'll do anything. I'll be _good_."

He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to her footsteps behind him, and turned his head as she came back into view on the other side of him. 

"I don't believe you." he told her simply. "You're a good liar, but not even you are that good."

Missy waved one hand dismissively. "Here's an interesting thing about good liars. The secret to a _really_ good lie, is to believe it yourself." She shrugged. "I suppose I did believe it, for a while. So I had to be sure." 

Her eyes met his from across the room and she paused, looking him up and down slowly. "And now I am. There's nothing here for me. Nothing but a nostalgic fancy I've allowed myself to indulge for too long."

He stared at her, unable to hide that her cruel words pierced him to the core. 

"Ouch." Missy grimaced. "The truth hurts, doesn't it. Well, just imagine how I feel. I almost forgot who I was." 

She turned to the Master, who was watching her with an admiration and excitement that bordered on lust. "But as it turns out, I just needed to take a good look at myself." 

Breaking into a grin, her male counterpart stretched out his hand. Missy glided over to him with the panache of a classic movie star, allowing him to pull her into a passionate kiss.

"Now _that_ ," he breathed when they broke away from each other. "was truly masterful. I'm sorry I ever doubted you." 

Missy patted his chest. "Quite. Self-doubt is a terrible trait." 

The buzzing of the sonic screwdriver caught their attention and they turned to look at him. Shirt still untucked, waistcoat and coat in one hand, the Doctor stood with the other hand outstretched and the sonic pointed at the door.

"It's open." he told them, lowering it. "Go."

They released each other.

"Right." Without so much as another glance, Missy turned and sauntered away. He couldn't bare to watch her leave like this, as if it were nothing. He could barely process what had just happened, let alone accept it. So instead he found himself watching the Master, who was straightening out his cuffs and buttoning up his coat. 

"You must be delighted with yourself." he observed dryly.

"Oh yes." The Master adjusted his collar. "It's good to know my future is in safe hands after all. Now then." He clasped his hands together and glanced around the room. "Toodeloo, Doctor. I'm off to pretend none of this ever happened. Fortunately, I won't have to remember it for long."

"Yeah." A sudden impulse tugged at his hearts, at his entire being, and the Doctor followed it. He started forward and strode over to the Master before the other could head for the door, placing a firm hand on the wall beside him. The other man's eyebrows shot up in surprise and he tried to back up, although there wasn't anywhere to go. The Doctor leant in close, not quite towering over him but noticeably taller all the same. 

"I will remember." he told him, their faces inches apart. It almost came out sounding like a threat, and if he was perfectly honest, a part of him wanted to mean it that way.

The Master swallowed, refusing to look away for fear of appearing intimidated. For a long moment, they stared into each other's eyes, both unyielding. 'Not so aloof now', the Doctor thought, watching the mask of indifference crack under his gaze. There was some vindication in that. He wondered what the Master imagined he might do to him. He wondered if some part of him _wanted_ to be hurt in return. And then he did something neither of them had seen coming.

"And I'll forgive you." he whispered, and without further ado, he closed the remaining distance between them and pressed his lips against the Master's. The other man's breath caught in his throat. He instinctively lifted his hand to the Doctor's face, fingers touching his cheek. But a split second later, the Master got a hold of himself and shoved the Doctor away hard, all but knocking him off his feet. .

"I couldn't care less about you and your _fogiveness_." His eyes flashed hot. "About time you understood that." he snarled in an icy voice and stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

The Doctor was alone.

Sunlight was slowly fading and the room was shrouded in darkness.

Numb with exhaustion, he collapsed into a chair, knowing full well that he had but moments before he needed to be on his way to the villagers.  
There was no time now to dwell on anything that had just transpired, and in many ways, that was for the best.  
Grief was a luxury.

He was needed, even if he wasn't wanted.

\- - - * - - -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... this is one of the most disturbing things I've ever written, no doubt. But I poured my heart and soul into it, so if you have a minute, I'd love to hear what you think. Even if it's "WTF dude what's wrong with you".
> 
> As you may have guessed, it's Missy's POV in the last chapter.


End file.
